Dream Receivers

A dream lay on the beach. Like a stone pounded smooth. Gently sweetened by the sea unclaimed. Beauty unrecognized scores pass by those fossilized souls dead-slag eyed.. Too often a devil comes along. Gleans it from a deserving palm, skips it across the cold backbone of the sea. Until it settles into the blackest ink. Time and tide will retrieve it again. Once a millennium... The dream receiver being long since dead.